Reincarnated as Gotham's beauty trash

Jack and Bruce's final exchange ends with fists.

I don't mean they got into a fight halfway through the conversation, but I mean, at the end of the conversation, they decided to go to the training room and come to an agreement online.

To be honest, I don't really understand their communication style, but Janet is not surprised by it at all.

While admiring the boxing match between Jack and Bruce, she leisurely added sugar to her black tea, and after the exchange between the two, she gracefully led the blue-nosed and bruised-eyed Jack and the trembling Tim home.

Bruce and I watch their car leave the estate, and he touches his battered chin lightly, looking at me.

Blue eyes blinked.

I blinked too.

Bruce caved, "Where's the medicine cabinet?"

I reached out to poke his wound, and nodded in satisfaction after hearing a "hiss".The bruise on his chin was starting to fade.

I sighed, "You should be glad that I don't charge you."

Bruce was on point, "Would you like a muffin?"

I cast a knowing look.

"I learned from Ah Fu, and he gave me the recipe that is accurate to gram. I will definitely not fail this time."

The knowing eyes left.

"Good night, I'm going to Pepper's for dinner tonight."

Tim's role as the new Robin went smoothly, and Jack was finally persuaded by Janet, agreeing that Tim would go underground to Wayne Manor for training every night.

Bruce expanded a secret passage directly to Drake Manor underground, and it only takes 15 minutes to use the underground passage from Drake Manor to Wayne Manor.

Tim can go straight to the Batcave through the passage after returning home. If the Drakes are in danger, they can also use the passage to quickly escape to Wayne Manor for refuge.

The melancholy on Tim's face quickly disappeared, replaced by the spirit of being supported by his parents.

After a training session, I noticed that the schoolbag he deliberately placed on the sofa in the training room had a small, slightly inclined, pointed "R" embroidered on it.

Tim had just decided the other day to make this "R," which was different from both Dick and Jason, his logo.

"Did you embroider it yourself?" I asked.

Like a college student returning home from vacation, Dick poked his head over to eat and drink at Wayne Manor, and when he saw the not-so-pretty letter "R", he showed a hearty and teasing smile from his senior, "Tibao, your handwork needs work."

The stitches that embroider the word "R" are neither fine nor smooth, and feel uneven to the touch.If you look closely, you will find that the word "R" is not embroidered, but embroidered stickers are ironed on.

Tim pursed his lips shyly, his eyes were bright, "My mother sewed this, her handwork is not very good."

An ordinary sentence caused Dick to suffer a critical blow.

Tim showed off with a shy smile, "I said that it might not be good for me to hide my identity, but my mother said that if someone asks, she is a fanatical admirer of the third generation Robin, so give me the backpack Robin logo stitched on."

"She also collected newspaper clippings about the third-generation Robin, and said that she would make a booklet in the future." Tim easily hit Dick with a crit, "But I think this embroidered sticker is already very good-looking, after all, it was she who put the thought into it Made to order."

He couldn't go on, and Dick's eyes were burning with jealousy.If Tim said one more word, this former Robin would be hung on the roof by Tim.

The trouble with having a bunch of kids in the house is that comparisons run rampant, and there's just no way to stop it.

After Tim showed off his embroidered backpack, Jason casually mentioned in a family communication, "My new code name is set, Red Hood."

"Don't use a bird or a bat, Batboy or something?" Dick's voice was accompanied by the wind, and I figured he was parkouring on the roof of Haven.

"I don't want to hang up the bat sign." Jason retched a few times, and then proudly mentioned, "I mentioned it to Catherine, and she said that she wanted to design my uniform with me."

Catherine has a tendency to develop into the fashion industry after returning home. In terms of manual work alone, Janet and I may not be able to match her.

Dick's weak heart was knocked again, and there was only the sound of fists hitting bones, and then a scream from some Haven villain.

I don't really want to know how many ribs the hapless guy broke under Dick's force.

Sometimes the strength of Bruce, Dick, and Cassan makes me wonder if they grew up not breathing the same air as us.

"You have hurt my fragile heart." Dick's plaintive words followed closely after the hapless man's screams, he paused, and said something I expected, "I want it too."

Dick has a quality that when he wants something, he tends to forget his real age and assume he's only three.

Like now, he's whining and moaning between the two of us alone on the phone.

"They all have them." If he was in front of me now, he might be rolling on the bed. "If I don't have them, I will be looked down upon by them."

"I don't think there is such a style of bullying between you brothers." I said sincerely, "It's not that I don't want to satisfy you, but my hands-on ability is not even as good as Janet's."

"I can already imagine Jason wearing the uniform that Catherine made for him, and Tim wearing a mommy love bag." Dick said, his tone was no different from that of a primary school student complaining to his mother.

Obviously I didn't have the option to refuse, I sighed, "Okay, but don't blame me for not doing well."

Dick cheered excitedly, "I'll send my jacket right away!"

I hesitated to speak, stopped and hesitated to speak, seeing Dick's happy face, I never said the phrase "you are mentally prepared".

Whether it's as a rich lady or as a social animal, I don't have the skills of needlework in my brain.

The highest state of my manual ability should be cross stitch, or the novice style that helps me print all the colors on the fabric.

With a needle in one hand and Dick's jacket in the other, I sat on the sofa in my bedroom thinking for a long time.

Bruce didn't quite understand my hesitation, "Have you finished yet?"

Heh, this genius who has nothing to beat him except cooking, given him a month, he can embroider Monet's "Water Lilies".

Of course he couldn't understand my distress.

I showed him the crooked work on the jacket.

Bruce's eyebrows were tangled between raising and lowering for a while, and finally he maintained a calm expression, and praised, "It's Picasso-like, are you embroidering a flying saucer?"

"No," I said blankly, "it's the Nightwing logo."

Bruce's gaze caught yesterday's newspaper on the table, and he picked it up and shook it, covering his face.

I looked at the blue object on the jacket, made it out, and had to admit sadly that it did look like a flying saucer—even at a distance.

A pair of eyes poked out from behind the newspaper, "I can teach you."

After 3 minutes, Bruce asked me with his needle and thread, "Have you learned it yet?"

I stared at the printer-like Nightwing logo on the right side of the jacket, then shook my head.

Another 5 minutes, he asked me over the second Nightwing logo he sewed, "Do you understand now?"

I frowned, "I feel a little clue."

We worked it out all night, and Dick ended up with a jacket with the Nightwing logo stitched all over it.

He happily boasted, "The embroidery is very good, don't be unconfident!"

I glanced at the photo he sent, "That logo was embroidered by Bruce."

For more than two seconds without a message popping up on the phone's screen, that was a whole year for Dick.

After a while, he took another photo and sent it to me. I glanced at it and broke his illusion, "This one is also embroidered by Bruce."

After seven or eight attempts, Dick finally found a small rough blue bird under the cuff, and I said excitedly, "This is it, I've made great progress!"

For more than three seconds, there was no message on the screen.

A year and a half passed in Dick's mind, and he replied, "I'll cherish it, Lulu."

Different photos were posted on all of Dick's social platforms that night. The commonality of the photos is that he was wearing the same jacket and highlighted the distinctive little blue bird on the cuff.

Jason fought him for [-] rounds in the comment area, occasionally adding Tim to fight.

I put down my phone and saw Bruce holding a piece of black cloth and mending it.

His virtuous look made my scalp tingle, "What are you doing?"

"Kassan wants it," he said succinctly. "I'll make some changes to the scarf so she can wear it out."

Is this a new type of comparison?

Consciously not in the same world as them, I silently exited the bedroom and hid in the study.

Ah Fu sat on a high stool in the study, studying the suit in his hand facing the sunlight outside the window.

In his hands, the silver needle and thin thread are like a magic wand, waving up and down at an extremely fast speed, shuttling on a suit that looks familiar to me.

Ah Fu noticed me at the door and explained, "I'm helping Master Bruce sew his name on the inside of his cuff."

He showed a meaningful expression, "Occasionally, the master wants to pursue the trend of young people, which is understandable."

My shock is indescribable, perhaps only a fraction of the distance since I saw Gordon begin to sew.

It's Gotham's nightmare, and the comparison mentality is the culprit of family discord.

I am the only one left in this family without the loving sewing products of the elders. After all, there is no one who sews clothes for me in this world.

I opened the card and inspected the string of zeros with satisfaction.

This is the bank card representing the Kelan family that I have had since my teenage years. After marriage, I can also receive pocket money from my second uncle every month.

He doubled his money this month, and I can fully feel my second uncle's love.

Satisfy.

Thank you uncle.